


Moderation (A Lack Thereof)

by Leonawriter



Series: FF7 minifics [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Dirge of Cerberus, Tragedy, more like their entire lives are a a tragic story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonawriter/pseuds/Leonawriter
Summary: Genesis thinks on a few things while he prepares himself to fight.They were friends, once. But in retrospect, he should have seen this coming.





	Moderation (A Lack Thereof)

**Author's Note:**

> These were originally going to be part of a sort of prompt-fic collection, but I figured they'd work just as well as a series as chapters in a collection. Easier, too.

None of them had ever been able to do things by halves. It was always either push yourself to the limit, or not at all - which was one reason why they’d been annoyed at Angeal when he’d insisted on not using the perfectly good sword he already had, all those times they’d trained together - and if you wanted to know something, or be sure of it… know it _completely_.

Perhaps that was why they hadn’t taken the revelations of how they weren’t who they’d thought they were very well, but that too was simply something that they had simply put their everything into, without holding back.

In retrospect, he should have seen things coming to this point, but he had been as stubborn and bullheaded in his youth as he was being now, and he would not have read the signs even if they had been printed out in the most basic lettering possible.

 _My friend, the fates are cruel_ , came the words, and he remembered a time when the owner of the slitted green eyes in front of him would have smiled, both annoyed and fond all at the same time even though he hadn’t been able to see it at the time, and finish the line or tell him where, exactly, it was from.

Not so anymore. 

 _There are no dreams, no honour remains_ , he continued, if only for himself, because what was a confrontation between friends worthy of the play of the goddess herself, without a little drama?

Genesis gripped his sword, and green eyes narrowed. 

He had always wanted to be a hero - to be _the_  hero, as if there could only ever be one - had wanted, as soon as he had seen himself strong enough, to knock Sephiroth off of his pedestal.

He had wanted, after his personal journey, to somehow save the world.

 _Always commit to your role,_  he remembered the director of one of the few performances he’d had time to actually be a part of rather than only being able to watch, having told him, time and again.

Across from him, his old friend, foe, _friend_ , looked at him with eyes that said in no uncertain terms that he was seen as nothing more than a _stranger._

 _The arrow has left the bow of the goddess,_  he finished. 

They never had been the kind to do things by halves, after all - and if Genesis was finally getting his chance to play the role of hero to the fullest, then that meant that Sephiroth… 

Whether he wished to call the man an old friend or a familiar foe, this was Genesis’ story of salvation, and it would be Sephiroth who would finally slumber eternal.


End file.
